


Niner, Niner

by GraarPlacemat



Series: Niner, Niner [1]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe - Western, Cowboys & Cowgirls, F/F, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Mental Breakdown, Period-Typical Racism, Violent Thoughts, implied norkington
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-01
Updated: 2014-12-06
Packaged: 2018-02-27 16:02:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2698952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GraarPlacemat/pseuds/GraarPlacemat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Niner, Niner, Nickel n’ Dimer<br/>Kiss the girls, give boys a shiner<br/>Watch your back, her tongue’ll wreck yer<br/>Rip you apart like a scrap of paper</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. America

**Author's Note:**

> For 479er appreciation week - ever since her introduction, I have felt strongly compelled to put Niner in an Old West America AU, so here she is. There's a distinct lack of dialogue in this first chapter, though I hope you'll forgive it.

_Niner, Niner, Nickel n’ Dimer  
Kiss the girls, give boys a shiner_   
_Watch your back, her tongue’ll wreck yer_   
_Rip you apart like a scrap of paper_

She started as a mouthy hostess at the local saloon, but like most people, she didn’t stay one thing forever. Unlike most people, she instigated the change in herself.

Something was different about her, and she knew it, and the town knew it. It wasn’t because she’d worked her way up to the Southern Territories from the heart of Mexico, and it wasn’t because her skin was bronze like the hide of the saloon owner’s horse, and it wasn’t because her hair was wilder than the dust storms that swept the town in the dryness of summer. At least, those weren’t the only reasons.

Despite her marked differences, nobody could claim she wasn’t, at the very least, well-liked. Her sass toward overly forward customers provided no end of amusement for others. Her boss liked her because she kept his kids in line, and because she didn’t get up to any funny business with men that could potentially ruin her - and, thus, his - reputation. Most of all, though, she watched, and she understood, and that pleased people.

She watched the cowherders pass through town, and learned to identify the why and how of their joining the trails - war veterans that sought to put their pasts behind them, husbands who had lost their families, directionless youths whose parents wanted to give them a piece of reality. She knew which ones would be back time and again, and which ones would defect to the North or never leave at all. She knew why they were riding, and she didn’t agree with a single one.

The girl - America was her name, though she was considering changing it - saved her pennies, the ones that her boss gave her and the ones she could frisk from excessively generous tippers. She stowed them in her straw mattress, in the loft of the barn she shared with the horses. One of them would be hers, with the money she was saving. She wasn’t going to steal one in the night, no matter how easy it would be. She would earn the right to ride, naysayers and misogynists be damned.

She had to ride. It was in her bones, and she knew it, and the town knew it even if she didn’t know they did.

Her opportunity came when a blonde woman on a black horse rode into town.


	2. May

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Niner, Niner, Nickel n’ Dimer  
> Had her young heart shattered inside her  
> She loved a woman who knew her best  
> Loved a woman by the name of Tex

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know how I managed to get this out, but I did. This is for you, Niner, my darling.  
> Little warning for this chapter - There are some mentions of racism here. Please tread carefully, and I promise that this will be the only chapter in which they are mentioned in such a harsh light, but in light of recent events I wanted to acknowledge the struggles that non-whites have experienced time and again in our history, and to ask my followers and friends to be kind and accepting to their peers.

_Niner, Niner, Nickel n’ Dimer_   
_Had her young heart shattered inside her_   
_She loved a woman who knew her best_   
_Loved a woman by the name of Tex_

“Allison,” greeted her boss when the blonde woman walked in. “It’s been far too long since you came home.”

“Hey, Pa,” replied his eldest daughter, the one the girl had never met. She had a measured smirk on her lips as she leaned on the counter. “Didn’t you hear? They call me Texan Beth now.”

“I did, and I think it’s a shame.”

She didn’t look like her siblings, the girl noted. The boys both looked like carbon copies of their father aside from the eyes, and Charlotte looked like a perfect mix of her father and someone else. Texan Beth looked like she could have been that “someone else”, aside from being too young, and the girl supposed she must have taken after her mother.

“You were a very lucky man, boss,” she quipped, and his stern gaze was on her.

“Allison, this is my hostess and nanny, May.”

Her name wasn’t May. That was the name the boss had given her after hearing the one she’d been given at birth and deciding that it was too Mexican.

Texan Beth gave her a cryptic smile and said, “Nice to meet you, May.”

“I’m planning on leaving tomorrow,” Texan Beth informed her. She dropped the information behind her as she passed the girl washing glasses, like a gift given in secret.

The girl frowned and watched her walk away.

She woke Texan Beth up early the next morning, and the woman seemed slightly shocked at her nerve.

“I have money in my mattress,” she told her urgently. “I want a horse, and I want to ride, and you’re going to teach me.”

Texan Beth studied her carefully, like a priceless artifact. She seemed fascinated, but the girl didn’t have the time for that.

“Well?”

“You sleep in the barn. Didn’t you ever think to just take one?”

“Only every damn night.”

“I woulda done it, you know. In fact, that’s exactly what I did the first time I left home.”

“It has to be my horse. If I don’t have the papers, they could take it from me.”

“Then get a new one.”

The girl looked at her sternly. “It has to be my horse.”

Yet again, Texan Beth stared at her with a mix of fascination and shock.

The mare she chose was brown in places and speckled white in others. Texan Beth and the horse dealer gave the pattern a name that she didn’t care about. She listened when told of her temperament and nodded when she heard that “Stall Four-Seven” could be feisty at times, but obeyed a rider once she’d bonded with them. Just what she’d wanted. She already had fallen in love with the horse.

Texan Beth asked her if she wanted to buy some riding pants. She’d get looks if she wore pants in town, but she’d also get looks if she rode around on a horse in a long skirt. The girl said no, that she would rather keep the clothes she had on. She’d worn this dress all the way up from Mexico, she said, and she wasn’t quitting it now.

She refused Texan Beth’s offer to buy her a saddle and rode bareback. It was just as she’d always known; five minutes on the horse’s back, and she was riding like a seasoned professional.

“It’s not May,” corrected the girl when they were halfway down the cowherding trail. They’d traveled for two days. If they’d had cattle with them, it would have taken a week just to get this far.

Tex(for Texan Beth had long since told her that there was no need to be so formal) looked up from the boots she was casually spit-shining. “What is it, then?”

“America. Supposedly.”

Tex snorted. “I thought you were from Mexico.”

“That’s the name my parents gave me. Never really liked it much.”

The older woman kept shining her boots. Lacking in anything else to do, the girl nudged the fire with their makeshift poker.

“If not America,” Tex finally interrupted the silence, “I don’t see why you can’t be Mexico. Tex and Mex. We’d make a team.”

The girl considered this. She watched sparks fly from the fire into the night air.

“It’s not going to be permanent,” she concluded, “but it’ll do better than May or America. I can be your Mex for now.”

“As long as you let me know when you find your real name, we can be even.” She tossed her boots aside. “Watch the fire. I’m getting some sleep.”

They rode up and down the trail until Mex knew it and the people at either end of it back to front and Tex knew her sidekick even better.

“You talk a lot more,” she commented once.

“Probably because I finally have someone here smart enough to listen to my brilliant advice.”

Tex smirked. Mex knew it was the closest she would come to a laugh without somebody physically injuring themselves.

“You could probably start guiding the cowherds, if you wanted. Earn yourself some money so you don’t have to rely on my charity.”

“Calling me a freeloader, Texan Beth?”

“More like a smart aleck.”

“Ooh, I’m so scared.”

“Really, you’re the only one who isn’t.”

“Hey, Four-seven and O’Malley like you well enough.”

“They’re horses.”

Mex just smirked.

“... You little bitch.”

Despite it all, Mex did end up taking Texan Beth up on her suggestion to guide the cowherds - but not before Tex kissed her, and not before the two lay together several nights in a row. It was strange, because she had known and not known that she was attracted to women. She’d never thought about it, but when she did, she was not surprised.

She also wasn’t surprised when Tex left after the second night with the first duo she was leading South.

“You’re so pretty,” said one of them, stroking her hair without her permission, “Shame you have such a mouth on you.”

She took her pistol and fired it at the ground, half an inch away from his foot. Needless to say, he hadn’t made another advance.

Tex had looked at her with a strange satisfied expression, and the next morning, she’d woken up alone.

She was half-tempted not to get up that morning. But she shrugged it off, like she did everything else, and shook the sand off her skirts before kicking her charges awake, boisterously proclaiming, “Get off your asses, sluggers. We’ve got ground to cover.”

 


	3. Mex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Niner, Niner, Nickel n’ Dimer  
> Won’t take a whiner, won’t take two-timers  
> Learned from a killer not to take no sass  
> She’ll knock you over, make you kiss your own ass

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm ahead of schedule! :D It must be fueled for the power of my love for Niner. That being said, I fear my love for North shows a little too much in this chapter. Please forgive me, and also listen to Bastille's song Daniel in the Den while thinking of him because I am a nerd(And because that's where I got his name from this time around, but that's neither here nor there.).

_Niner, Niner, Nickel n’ Dimer  
Won’t take a whiner, won’t take two-timers_   
_Learned from a killer not to take no sass_   
_She’ll knock you over, make you kiss your own ass_

 

This was one of the biggest groups she’d ever led on the trails. It wasn’t so much the six men; that was actually fairly standard, in her experience. What distinguished them was that those seven ment led a trail of cattle that constituted more animals than she’d ever seen in one place.

She couldn’t deny they were good at their job. They were making the same time as any group with a smaller load between a larger sum of people, and they’d only lost two animals - and those were the ones that had been lagging behind, which they chose to shoot instead of adjusting their pace to. It was a group of veteran herders, no doubt about it, and she was amazed that she’d never seen them on the trails, or even in her years as a hostess.

“The ladies like it better when we keep an air of mystery,” joked a charismatic fellow from New York who the rest called Yankee, or, more often, Yank. He dropped a wink and promptly ducked out of the way of her fist.

“If I were to abandon y’all in the dead of night,” Mex mused sarcastically, “I wonder what the probability would be that you’d die first.”

“Next to none. I think we all know we’d eat Reggie before me.”

“I question that assessment, Yank. Perhaps I was once the most nutritious of our group, but I can’t help but notice you’ve put on a few pounds since joining.”

“What can I say? Good eating and good exercise make a world of difference, Reg.”

Perhaps they were good at their job, but their sense of humor was terrible. Mex rolled her eyes and turned her attention elsewhere.

Northerner Daniel and Rookie Boy were riding close together a little ways off. From the very start, Mex had been able to tell that they - and Yank - were unusually close, even for within this group. She noticed, especially, the tender looks that “North” gave the other two, as well as the caring support he always gave them. Like a big brother, or a father, or even a lover.

That being said, Northerner Daniel - North - was something of a mystery even to his peers. Yank himself whispered that he knew he had a dark past with his sister, and once had been married, but even he didn’t know anything more than that.

The others of his group wondered and occasionally tried to get the information out of him, but Mex didn’t. She knew that if it was meant to be revealed, it would be, and it would only do good to let it come in its own time.

 

In the evenings, after the horses had been hitched and the cattle secured, they sat, jolly, around a fire and told stories and sang and even danced. They were lively together, even Reggie and the Big Man. Occasionally, inevitably, someone would hand a scrap of something-or-other over to Butch to repair, but he took it in his stride and smiled warmly the whole way through.

“I never saw a girl on the trails before you,” Rookie Boy commented one evening, staring straight at Mex over the fire.

Mex raised an eyebrow, and Big Man, who was sitting next to her, edged away as subtly as he could. “Surprised, Rookie?”

“I guess. I was just thinking, if I’d a’ known it was possible, I woulda told my friend Connie. She always wanted to come down South, and she wanted to come with me, but her ma’am told her no. Said it was too dangerous.”

Mex considered this. “Honestly, it can be. You wouldn’t believe some of the sleazeballs that try and come after me once we’re far enough from civilization.” She paused to give a catlike grin. “I always make them regret it, though.”

“What do you do to them?” Yank pressed, leaning forward and smiling.

“Take their money and ditch them in the middle of nowhere, of course. If I’m feeling really nasty, I’ll toss them in the stream or shoot them in the foot first.”

“I’ll gladly remain on your good side, then,” Butch chuckled, bent over the tear in Reggie’s saddle.

“Real shame there isn’t more women down here, though,” Northerner Daniel commented, gazing peacefully at the stars, “I know my sister would’ve loved this place.”

Silence fell. The fire crackled, like it was asking North a question, and he seemed slowly to become aware of the tension of the group. He looked around, at Butch, at Big Man, at Yank and Rookie Boy. He looked at Mex.

“Story time?” he said, and it wasn’t quite a question. Reggie nodded, prompting him to begin.

Northerner Daniel stared at the stars again, and then at the heart of the fire. He took a deep breath and opened his mouth.

“I was married, before I came down to the trails. I had a beautiful wife and a son.” He smiled warmly at the memory. “His name was Theodore. He loved animals. I guess he’d have liked it down here, too.

“I was happy, I suppose. I did love my wife, but I didn’t quite love her in the way she loved me. She knew it, and I knew it, and my...my sister knew it. My sister and I, we were twins, but she never married. I don’t think marriage was her cup of tea, at least not as we know it. If she could have married a woman, I think she would have married someone. I can’t say I blame her.”

Rookie Boy was smirking dolefully at the fire. He caught Mex’s eye and quickly looked away.

“She wasn’t well-liked in my town,” North continued, oblivious, his voice laced with pain. “Not just because she never married, either. She wasn’t...she wasn’t the most agreeable person. I tried what I could, but...I guess the pressure and the jealousy finally got to her.

“She killed them. My wife, and little Teddy. She shot them when I was away working.”

Silence hung in the air, tainting their breath, making it hitch in their throats.

Mex moved first. She stood up, walked around the fire, and offered her hand to North.

As they walked into the desert, leaving the warmth and company of their peers behind, Mex found that North was a very quiet crier.

He finished his story, head bowed, letting tears drop onto an empty streambed.

“I’m the one who killed her, Mex.”

She patted his back and hummed until he was ready to go back.

 


	4. Niner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Niner, Niner, Nickel n’ Dimer  
> Knows her limits, won’t take a minor  
> Treats every woman she meets like a queen  
> In her bed, they live the dream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, reading the last segment of this story, you may have been curious about why Carolina wasn't paired up with the other Freelancers. Well, the sexism inherent in his era is one part of that, but another bit is that I've often wondered how Carolina's feelings of inferiority would manifest if she didn't have something like the Freelancers to relieve it, especially since I've struggled with inferiority complex myself. So there are little pieces of my own experience in this chapter, I confess. I hope you'll forgive me this venture. That being said! Take care of yourselves! Talk about your feelings!! It helps, I promise!!

_Niner, Niner, Nickel n’ Dimer  
Knows her limits, won’t take a minor_   
_Treats every woman she meets like a queen_   
_In her bed, they live the dream_

 

“Stick around, Mex,” Butch told her as they parted in town, “After taking our lead from you, I can’t imagine following anyone else.”

“I’m flattered, Butch,” Mex replied, startled into sincerity, “I’ll be honest, I did take a liking to you guys. When are y’all planning on going South again?”

“A week or so. We don’t like hanging around in town much - too many things to spend our pennies on, if you know what I mean.”

“Meet at the cattle yards?”

“At the cattle yards, then.”

 

It had been a long time since Mex had had any time to herself, let alone a week. She’d received ample payment from the group that had called themselves the Freelancers, certainly enough to reserve a stay in a hotel, but somehow the prospect didn’t quite call to her.

In an unusual fit of nostalgia, she decided to pay a visit to her old workplace. It had been almost three years since she’d been there, and she wasn’t entirely sure what to expect upon her return, though she had no doubt it would be an adventure.

It was, of course, in the exact same place she remembered it being. The people, for the most part, were different from who she remembered, although there were one or two old-timers who took a double take when she passed by. She tipped her hat, quite casually, and they sat back in their seats with peculiar looks of satisfaction.

She didn’t see her boss anywhere. Instead, there was an unfamiliar boy manning the counter, apparently having taken her own position after she left. When he looked up at her, he grinned, possibly at the sight of a fellow racial minority and possibly because she was a woman - a  _new_  woman in his eyes, to boot - and he was a man, or at least he considered himself to be.

Mex rolled her eyes and sighed in preparation before leaning against the counter, prompting the boy, “How long you been working here, kid?”

“Awhile,” he answered readily and enthusiastically, “I know my way around town pretty well, if you -”

“May?” exclaimed a voice, and Mex momentarily was under the impression that she was in the company of her old boss. But, wait, this voice was younger and slightly - but only slightly - higher-pitched.

“Junior?” she called, turning to the source of the word.

He looked even more like his father than she remembered, possibly because he’d managed to go from an awkward prepubescent to a young man within the space of time that she’d been gone. But she knew it was him because of the eyes - those eyes which she’d never seen quite so excited as in that moment.

“God, May,” he proclaimed, “It is you. It  _is_  you.” And he hugged her. She’d never been more surprised.

“Wouldn’t a’ left if I knew you’d miss me this much,” she joked, even though they both knew it wasn’t true.

“‘Course I missed you,” Leonard Junior retorted, finally letting her go, “You left and now I have to deal with that dumbass over there.”

She heard a “Hey!” come from the boy who’d taken her place and snickered. “Now you know, Junior. I spoiled you kids rotten with how good I took care of you and this place.”

“You absolutely did,” he agreed with a sigh, and before he could continue another voice came.

“May? May! May, you’re back!” And a small bundle that couldn’t be anyone but little Eastwood barrelled into her. “May, May, I missed you, I missed you!”

Mex was strangling out something in the order of “I missed you, too” when she looked up and saw the girl on the staircase.

Her hair was bright red and plaited over her shoulder. Her dress was blue, and the bodice embraced her torso like a lifelong friend. The skirt fell to her ankles, not plain, but far from as tragically gaudy as so many women preferred recently. Her eyes glittered like emeralds, peeking out from beneath her hair and appraising Mex.

She was the most beautiful thing Mex had ever seen, and she couldn’t have looked less like her sister.

“May,” she whispered from rose-petal lips, and launched herself down the stairs and toward Mex, wrapping her in her strongest embrace.

“Charlotte,” Mex mumbled, numbly embracing her former charge back.

The red-headed work of art pulled back. “Dinner is ready. You need to eat with us.”

“I wouldn’t dream of doing anything else,” Mex said easily.

 

“Rumors have been flying all over the place since you left,” Leonard Junior informed her before placing a massive spoonful of stew in his mouth. Mex had a cutting remark about his manners halfway out of her mouth before she was interrupted.

“They say you go by nine different names!” shouted Eastwood, and broth dribbled down his chin. As if on reflex, both Mex and Charlotte grabbed their napkins and made as if to clean him up, but hesitated when they noticed each other taking the action. Mex ended up putting her napkin down and letting Charlotte do it.

“Wait a minute,” Lavernius put in once the deed was done, “You mean to tell me _this_  is Niner? That girl everyone talks about?”

Mex raised an eyebrow. “Well, I don’t think nine is exactly accurate. Last I counted, there were only three, and you all know two of them. Can’t say I mind being called Niner, though,” she added, as an afterthought.

“Niner, Niner,” sang Eastwood happily, and it was then that she decided.

“Then that’s my name,” she concluded. “I’ll have to tell Texan Beth if I ever see her again.”

A dark look passed over Charlotte’s face, warping it, turning her incomparable beauty into something sinister and monstrous. “What’s  _she_  got to do with it?”

“She passed through a week ago,” Junior provided, sending a cautious glance at his sister, “You might still be able to find her if you go soon.”

Mex - Niner - took a moment to respond, still startled by Charlotte’s reaction. “I don’t think that’s possible. I’m leaving in a week with the same group I came up with.”

With that, Charlotte seemed to relax, and Junior relaxed, too, and after contemplating what she’d just witnessed for a moment, Niner shrugged off the change in atmosphere and let herself enjoy the rest of the evening.

 

Lavernius had made a habit of sleeping beneath the bar, and despite that Leonard Senior was away and his bed was free, Niner insisted that her old bed in the barn was perfectly good enough for her, even better than what she was used to on the trails. Charlotte had agreed surprisingly quickly, and though Junior was doubtful, he eventually gave up the fight and allowed it.

“You’re welcome to come inside if you change your mind during the night,” he offered, but she gave him one of her notorious Looks and he let it go.

So it was there, in her old straw bed, that she lay several hours later, completely unable to sleep despite her own various attempts to persuade herself into slumber, when the door to the barn creaked open and a figure stepped inside.

She was used to this happening from the old days, and didn’t say a word, figuring whoever it was would only be alarmed if she spoke up. She listened to their footsteps and was mildly surprised to hear them approaching the ladder to the loft she was sleeping in.

“May?” came the voice, and Niner wasn’t quite surprised to find out that the interloper was Charlotte.

“Something wrong?” she asked, propping herself up and looking into Charlotte’s eyes. Even in the dark of the barn, she could have sworn she could see the green glow of them. It wasn’t like earlier, when she had thought them beautiful. Now her stomach twisted with unease.

“I was having trouble sleeping, and I remembered how you used to let me come in here with you,” she explained, stepping closer, “I always slept better with you.”

Niner remembered it well. Charlotte had been plagued with insomnia since she was very young. “Well,” she said, forcing down the sickness roaring inside her, “Come on, then. For old times’ sake.”

Charlotte knelt down on the straw, but something was wrong. Her face was too close.

“Allison told me about the trails,” she whispered, and her breath smelled hot and sour like poison.

Niner, despite herself, was feeling sicker by the second. “Yeah?” she replied, voice steady in spite of her internal battle. “What did she tell you?”

Charlotte didn’t answer. Her hand was on Niner’s jaw, guiding it, and Niner felt herself being pulled close as much by the piercing nature of Charlotte’s eyes as by the strength with which the girl manipulated her.

She finally regained control of her arms and pushed Charlotte away, scrabbling for purchase on the floor with her feet in order to further separate them.

“Just what do you think you’re doing, Charlotte?!” she spat, and her back was to the wall, and she was using its support to help her stand. “I half raised you, girl, what do you think you’re playing at?!”

A moonbeam was striking Charlotte in the eye, and Niner could see the scathing look held within it. “You did it with Allison.”

“And that’s something completely different, Charlotte, I never knew her until she helped me get out of here!”

“There’s always excuses,” Charlotte screeched, suddenly, and Niner nearly stumbled in surprise, “You didn’t know her, she’s different from me, she looks like my mother - there’s always excuses, and I’m never good enough.” Her lip was trembling now, but the volume of her voice was going anywhere but down. “I’m not good enough for my  _father_ , I’m not good enough for  _you_ , I’m not even good enough for  _goddamn stinking Lavernius!_ ”

“Well, if you stopped comparing yourself to her -”

“I DO NOT COMPARE MYSELF TO HER!” Charlotte bellowed, and she went from woeful and controlled to utterly deranged in a matter of seconds. She stomped her feet, and tears fell from her eyes, and she tore and tore at her beautiful red hair until it came all undone, and she screamed. She screamed so loud, the horses downstairs were snorting and stomping and screaming with her.

Niner was frozen until Charlotte lunged for her.

“I’ll never be good enough,” she sobbed, and she was on her knees, hands fisted in Niner’s skirt. “God, just once, let me be good enough, take me, take  _me_ , Niner,  _please_  -”

Niner let out a sound that sounded panicked and strangled even to her own ears and tried to run, tried as hard as she could to get to the ladder even as she felt Charlotte pulling, tugging, and finally ripping her skirt with a sound that seemed to shred the very air of the barn. Still, she dropped the cloth and clung to Niner’s legs, wailing in despair and rage, until Niner fell against the wall and a horrible  _crack_  accompanied the loss of Charlotte’s desperate, clinging hands.

Not pausing to contemplate what had happened to her former charge, Niner sprinted to the ladder and made her way down, jumping the last several feet and landing roughly on the creaking wooden floor. She forced herself up, away, towards the stall where she knew she would find Four-Seven and her supplies, and even as she went she heard a low moan sound from the loft.

“May,” screamed Charlotte, and she fumblingly pulled her satchel over her shoulder and unlatched the stall door because all the sorrow was gone from the girl’s voice, replaced with pure, bright, dazzling green hatred.

There were footsteps in the loft as she skipped leading Four-Seven out of the stall and hurled herself straight onto the panicked, confused horse’s back, and as the two of them - mare and rider - burst out of the stall and headed for the door, she heard something heavy fall from the ladder to the floor in much the same way as she had mere moments earlier.

Charlotte had left the barn open when she came in, so it was only a split second before Niner and Four-Seven were free, free, galloping with everything they had into the night. She thought, briefly, that she wouldn’t be able to make that meeting with the Freelancers, and even briefer that she’d finally have to get a new dress, before sparing a glance backward.

There was a figure standing, lopsided, disheveled, and bloody, in the doorway of the barn. Although she knew that it was all nonsense, that her mind was playing tricks on her, she imagined that she saw a flash of green pierce the dark before she turned forward and urged her horse on.

 


	5. Guide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Niner, Niner, Nickel n’ Dimer  
> Never thought her past would find her  
> Found herself all lost at sea  
> Found herself in old company

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hm. This was harder to write than I anticipated, in a lot of ways. Well. I hope you guys like it better than I do right now.

_Niner, Niner, Nickel n’ Dimer  
Never thought her past would find her_   
_Found herself all lost at sea_   
_Found herself in old company_

 

Years passed, and Niner didn’t take any more cowherds North or South. Something didn’t feel right if it wasn’t the Freelancers, and she was too scared to return to her home base after what had happened there, anyway.

She didn’t leave the trails, though. She explored them, rode them, forged them, until she knew them even better than she had before, better than anyone else ever knew them.

Perhaps she wasn’t leading cowherds, but she still needed money to survive, and she wasn’t particularly fond of stealing or murdering to obtain it. Instead, she wandered the trails - her trails, really - and helped lost riders find their way. She became well-known as a savior of the wayward, and whenever she returned a lost son or husband to his home, she was handsomely rewarded.

It was nice, helping people and feeling their gratitude in return, but it didn’t change the fact that she was alone.

 

It was a discovery like any other, up until the moment it wasn’t.

Niner was riding at night, slowly because she wouldn’t have wanted to stumble across a sleeping explorer the hard way, when she saw it - a lone horse, still saddled up, but not tied to anything, standing off to the side. She frowned, dismounted, and walked towards it, knowing Four-Seven would follow.

Its ears perked up, but otherwise the horse didn’t seem particularly disturbed. It was a steady mount, a smart one, because it could tell she meant no harm. This caused her some worry - the smart horses were usually the ones who’d been on the trail for a long time, and for a lone rider without many supplies that could mean any number of things.

She looked around and spotted a dark mass spread on the ground further off into the brush. She paused, appraised the stranger horse again, and patted Four-Seven on the shoulder - her way of telling her girl to stay.

As she approached, she saw that the dark mass was a body, lying on its back. She slowed down, checked to make sure there weren’t any guns, and called, “Hey. You okay?”

No response. She came a little closer.

“Hey. Are you sleeping or dead?”

“Neither. Leave me alone.”

“Are you dying, then? I can help.”

“Do you mean, help me die, or help me live?”

Niner felt her eye twitch. Well, if he was giving her sass, he probably wasn’t on the verge of death. “Whichever. I’m flexible.”

The man propped himself up on his elbows. He looked at her for a long moment, and then scrambled to his feet. “What in the - Mex? Is that you?”

It took hearing him say her previous name for her to realize that she recognized his face. “Oh, my god! Rookie Boy!” She began to laugh.

He joined in the mirth. “It’s been a long time since I heard someone call me that,” he admitted, and came closer, spreading his arms. “God, I never thought I’d be seeing you again. C’mere.”

They embraced tightly, tighter than Niner would reckon he’d have hugged her back when they traveled together. She knew, then, instantaneously, bizarrely, that she wasn’t the only one who had been through a lifetime of pain since last they’d met. When they finally separated and she looked Rookie in the eyes, she saw sharpness and clarity where once there had only been idealism and naivete. There was a reason that he was traveling alone.

“No one calls me Mex anymore, either,” she informed him. “Folks call me Niner now.”

He raised an eyebrow. He recognized her call card, apparently. “Well, I don’t figure you’ll be pleased to know what people call me. But you can use the name David.”

“Made a name for yourself, David?”

“Something like that.” He turned his eyes toward the sky. “Stars are beautiful tonight. I was just watching them.”

She wanted very badly to know what had happened. She wanted to know what people called him. She wanted to know why he’d developed an interest in the sky. She wanted to know why he was alone. She wanted to know why they were both alone.

She decided to let him tell her in his own time.

 

Niner continued her usual antics, but now she had a companion. He never shared his name, never shared anything about himself, not even his face - he hid it, from the bridge of his nose and below, behind an iron grey bandana. People feared him, but they knew Niner and her story, so the two as a unit were trusted.

David didn’t sleep much, Niner noted. Back in the old days, he’d slept like a rock and had trouble getting up in the morning. Now, he was usually the first awake. He usually never fell asleep.

“What on Earth do you do all night?” she finally asked him one day, when she was feeling particularly frustrated. It was hot, and she was tired because the horses had been unusually boisterous the previous evening, and she couldn’t fathom how David lived with bags under his eyes all the time.

His eyes were a hundred years old when he looked at her. His bandana was on, so she couldn’t see his mouth, but she envisioned it set in a firm line. “I watch the stars. And, I guess, I remember.”

 

That night, she plunked herself down right next to David instead of several feet away, as was her usual. He didn’t seem entirely surprised.

“What do you see?” he asked her, and she frowned.

“That’s my line.”

“Then say it.”

She propped herself up and looked at the horizon. “What do you remember?” she asked.

He told her.

 

Big Man killed someone. He hadn’t meant to. There had been a misunderstanding, and it meant that he - and the rest of the Freelancers - had had to flee. They’d left a message at the cattle yards for Mex, but he supposed now that she’d never seen it.

They’d all left their guard down once they were out of town, and that had been the opportunity the men needed to find them. In the dark of night, they dragged him away. David and Yank and Reggie had been furious, had tried to go after them, but Northerner Daniel and Butch had made them stay. They’d been spared this time, they insisted, and they’d get Big Man back once things had simmered down.

But they didn’t hold together that long. They camped out for as many weeks as they could bear, and then Reggie and Butch decided to ditch the three youngest men. What for, they’d never know.

They hemmed and hawed over what to do. Finally, Northerner Daniel shrugged and admitted he’d always wanted to see the ocean, so they set off for the Gulf.

After what seemed like endless traveling, they came to a cliff that dropped off into the sea.

“I remember exactly what he did, then,” David told the sky, “He kissed my forehead and said, ‘Stay safe, kid,’ and then he ran and jumped off the cliff. And typical Yank, he thought he could save North if he jumped off after him.”

He said it simply, matter-of-factly, like, oh, well, the two men I loved more than life itself are dead. What can you do?

It sent a shiver down Niner’s spine.

 

She didn’t ask him about it anymore. He waited several weeks before he got up from the ground and came to sit next to where she lay.

“I came back and sold their horses.” He knew she wasn’t sleeping.

“Whose horses?”

“You know.”

She did.

“And then I started doing stuff like you’ve been doing. But I started from their houses, and not out here. Families paid me to track down their husbands and sons. I went by Recovery.”

“I know that name,” she said, squinting to help her own recollection. “I heard it from one of the people I was leading home, about a year and a half ago.”

“That’s about when things started going awry,” he sighed, and fell back to lay in the dirt beside her, gazing at the moon. “They might not have heard just yet. But, the thing is, people sometimes die out here.”

“I always just leave them if I find them. Or bury them, if I’m feeling nice.”

“Well, I was paid to at least get their things back to their families, if not the person themselves, alive. And I did. That’s exactly what I always did.” He sighed again. “But people started spreading rumors, because I tended to bring back a lot more dead than alive. They said I was killing my targets, taking their best supplies, and bringing back the garbage.”

Niner didn’t say anything. She turned her head and watched David’s face. It was as empty as his voice.

“Since then, I’ve been living any way I can. I sometimes rob people - but I never murder, I promise. I watch the stars as much as possible. I remember North and Yank. I even kind of like it, my life. At least I  _used_  to be happy. My memories of those times make it easier.”

The moon was full, and it was leering down at them. Niner sat up and looked down at David in disbelief.

“You’re living in the past, David.”

He reached upward with his hand, like he wanted to pluck the moon out of the sky and crush it into powder with one fist.

“‘Course I’m living in the past, Mex,” he whispered. “It’s all I have left.”

 


	6. Lover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Niner, Niner, Nickel n’ Dimer  
> Don’t wear powder, rouge, or liner  
> Go on ahead and spare all of your  
> Nickels n’ dimes for good ol’ Niner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, there! This one's going up here a little early because I'm going to be hanging out with my friends after school today and I'm pretty sure I won't be able to post it later. I hope you enjoy it! I feel I have a bit better a relationship with this chapter than the previous one, if only because the suffering it induces doesn't last quite so long. (Does that count as a spoiler? Idk, I just hope y'all like it!)

_Niner, Niner, Nickel n’ Dimer  
Don’t wear powder, rouge, or liner_   
_Go on ahead and spare all of your_   
_Nickels n’ dimes for good ol’ Niner_

 

She stood at the base of the hill, looking up at her former lover, who stood atop the ridge letting the wind buffet her hair. The woman wondered if the girl’s hat would fly off her head, but it didn’t. Her face was streaked with dirt, and she supposed it was the only facial powder that would ever suit a girl like that.

She’d finally replaced the dress, she noticed. This one was white, with subtle blue and grey accents. Practical. Fit for a woman rider. She had good taste and a strong sense of reason.

She’d never ridden with a saddle, and the woman could tell she’d long since abandoned the bridle. It was the same horse, she could see from all the way down here, and if it hadn’t run yet, it never would. The horse knew what it had, even if Texan Beth hadn’t.

“Howdy, Mex,” she called over the sound of the wind.

The girl turned to her riding companion - a man, Tex couldn’t help but notice - and shared a few words. He mounted his horse and rode North. The girl approached.

“My name’s Niner,” she corrected, sticking out her right hand.

A handshake. This girl was full of surprises. Tex smirked.

They rode together, slowly, and Niner told Tex everything. Even Tex’s own sister, she told about. She didn’t ask what Tex had been up to. All her life, she’d been watching and listening, and the only words out of her mouth were avoidance. It was her time to talk, now.

Niner wasn’t a girl anymore, Tex finally let herself realize.

That night, they slept together. Niner made a point of not looking at the stars. She looked down at Tex, only at Tex, and they kissed and kissed and kissed each other.

When she woke in the morning, Tex was alone. The dirt beside her was empty, and her chest was empty, and the only horse waiting for its rider was her own.

She lay on the ground for what must have been hours, contemplating all that she had lost.


	7. Legend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Where did you learn that song?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. This has been a journey in more ways than one. While dear old Niner was living out her life, I found that I was being led along with her on a path that neither of us really saw coming, and I'd like to thank you all for that. Over the course of this fic, I've seen words on a page that I in no way expected, I've seen tables flipped(you know who you are), and I've felt more support towards my writing than I have in a long, long time. Thank you all for everything, and I'm so glad that I was able to contribute something meaningful to 479er week. Let's give 479er a hand, and let's look forward to a future with even more of this wonderful character in it!! :)

“Where did you learn that song?”

Donut looked up from his guitar, beaming triumphantly. He was apparently under the impression that Church was actually impressed, and not completely disturbed, by the tune he’d just finished playing while the other “Reds” sang. “Our old trail guides, of course! Locus and Felix!”

“Yeah, but where’d they learn it?”

“How should we know?” Grif drawled from where he lay curled on the ground with his back to the fire. “Even if they told us, it’s not like we’d remember at this point.”

“Of course we would,” Simmons corrected him, and the look on his face indicated that he was searching his memory. “I think they said something about a saloon owner’s...daughter. Or sister?”

“Wow, know-it-all.”

“Shut up, Grif.”

Church just frowned - more than usual, that is - and nodded slowly, exchanging a look with Tucker. Donut noticed.

“Why do you ask, anyway?”

“We know the girl it’s about,” Tucker said, before Church could stop him. He sighed, resigned.

As he predicted, the entire group’s eyes, including Caboose’s, widened. Even Grif turned toward him in astonishment. “You met Niner?” Sarge interrogated him, “How in all hell did you get out alive?!”

Church rolled his eyes in exasperation. “She’s not a killer, Sarge. She never was and never will be.”

“But she’s tough as nails,” Simmons reminded him, “I mean, they say she could beat up men three times her size. With guns! And her with nothing but her own hands!”

“That’s ridiculous. You’re confusing her with my bitch sister. No, Niner just knew her way around. She didn’t do violence unless you messed with her, and even then, she only messed with you back.”

“But the song said she ‘learned from a killer’,” Grif reasoned, and that’s how Church knew he wasn’t getting out of this. If even Grif was invested, it meant trouble. “If that’s true, why isn’t she one, herself?”

“One facet of a person doesn’t always determine everything they are,” said New Guy, chin turned up, eyes on the stars. They called him New Guy because, while he was certainly the newest and least understood of the group, he’d truthfully been on the trails far longer than any of the rest, even Sarge, and as such couldn’t be called ‘Rookie’ or anything similar.

“Exactly,” Church agreed, although he wasn’t entirely sure what precisely New Guy meant. “Maybe she was scary. But she also raised me - yes, raised me - better than my father ever could have. And I’d just like to say, she taught me everything there is to know about sass.”

“Ella hizo un muy mal trabajo,” Lopez deadpanned.

“Be quiet, please,” Caboose reprimanded, “I would like to hear Church’s story.”

“I agree with Caboose,” New Guy put in, and turned to Church. “If you don’t mind, that is.”

Church gave them both a stiff smile in thanks. He then stared at the dirt, unsure of where to begin now that all the attention was on him.

“You know, Church’s horse is actually hers,” Tucker pointed out, and any other time Church might have glared at him, but now he was thankful. Now he had a place to start.

“Yeah, it walked into town about the same time she went missing,” he conceded, “I took care of it, but she never came back to claim it. I guess you could say that’s why Tuck and Caboose and I came out here, after my sister - you know, the older one - came and told us all the stories.

“She loved that horse. When she was my nanny, she was always raising money for one. We always knew she’d run off the minute she had the money. And she finally did, when my sister came into town. A couple months ago, Tex told me…”

 

And Niner, Niner lived on.

 


End file.
